


The first rule of Girls Club is you don't talk about Girls Club.

by wonderwanda



Category: E.R.
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderwanda/pseuds/wonderwanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby didn't want to admit it, but Susan's pullout *was* comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts from "Simple Twist of Fate" and goes through Season 12, when Susan leaves to accept tenure in Iowa.  
> I've also only had a really brief beta, so pardon any errors.

The start of that evening had been unpleasant. _Yeah, and do you have your wallet with you?_ The question made Abby cringe. One of her eyes was practically swollen shut, and she didn't care to put any effort into trying to process the rest of the details. _It's a pullout, but it's comfy._ FUCK YOU. She wanted to say. Fuck you because my face looks like it's been rolled over by a truck and I just want to be by myself. 

Not in so few words of course, the only objection she could muster was a grunt, which was quickly silenced. _Do you want to change into scrubs or something? I have a washer and dryer in my building, you can throw your robe in later._ No response. Soon after, Abby quietly obliged by sliding off the bed and slinking into the lounge. Susan had just been up in her business-- strictly professional; but now she was going to have to stay at her place and that felt strange. 

Abby was careful slipping out of her robe in the bathroom stall. She inspected each rib to the best she could see, sliding her fingers over the tender parts of her abdomen. _Jesus._ She was exasperated and slipped the depressing scrub top over her braless bones; hand brushing her face accidentally. A ripple of pain shot through her body. 

"Son of a bitch!" 

"Abby, are you ok in there?" Susan had opened the door of the bathroom, unbeknownst to Abby, who touched her unscathed nostril trying futilely to prevent the wave of residual drip from escaping.

"Yeah." 

"Listen, I don't get off for a few hours, but I'll leave my keys on the sink for you." Abby stood in the stall and crossed her arms. 

"Thanks." 

Susan had noticed Abby's tattered slip-ons. Likely a last minute thought before her ambulance ride. "Do you have any other shoes?" 

"In my locker." She replied. Susan laid her keys on the sink as promised. She walked over to the locked stall and stood next to it. 

"You sure you're ok?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Abby tightened the strap on her pants, with an unavoidable sniffle.

"Do you want to wait until I get off so I can give you a ride?" She unlatched the door and tried her best to storm out, but was admittedly too weak to do much of anything. 

"No thanks." Abby grabbed the key and went to put on her shoes.

The train ride to Susan's was hell. Though she couldn't see much of anything, Abby could feel the attention her face was attracting. "Are you Ok?"s came in by the second. Finally, she stopped answering. Her grip on Susan's key tightened. She wanted to be in her own bed, in her own apartment, with her own things. _SHIT. The delivery guy! Oh well…_ She'd barely heard the stop over the cacophony of her own thoughts, and the searing pain in her cheekbones. Abby approached the door cautiously, and navigated the rest of the way with her one good eye. Thankfully, Susan's place wasn't hard to find. She let herself in, poked around for a moment before finding a blanket and curling up on the couch; caring little if it pulled out or not. 

Susan made sure to be quiet when she got home that morning, but the latch had woken Abby up anyway. 

"Didn't feel like pulling the couch out?"

Abby shook her head before groggily replying: "No." 

"How're you feeling? You want anything?" 

Abby put all of her effort into sitting up. She wrapped the blankets around her shoulders. Susan brought two steamy mugs into her living room, and sat one next to her colleague. 

"This stuff is pretty good." Susan remarked, Abby pursed her lips. "You know, you were really lucky. It could have been a lot worse." 

Abby reached for her shoes, not caring for sentiment. 

"I think I'm going to go." 

"You can stay as long as you want, you don't have to go right now." The offer was tempting, but Abby shook her head. "What if he's back there?" 

"I can't stay away forever." Susan had a point, but her couch wasn't as comfortable as Abby dreamed her own bed was. Susan, sensing this was likely the case, shrugged her shoulders. 

"You're right."

"Thanks for the couch." Abby gathered what little was left of her things. 

"Hey." Susan stood. "At least let me give you a ride." 

"I'm ok." 

"Abby, come on." 

With little energy to dispute, Abby obliged, Susan grabbed her things, and they left. The ride was thick with awkward silence. Susan would periodically think of things to say, then decide against them at the last minute. Abby stayed quiet the entire trip. Her dejected attitude was off-putting. Susan had to keep reminding herself that she'd just had the shit kicked out of her. They pulled up. 

"Do you want me to come in with you?" 

Abby shook her head. "Thanks for the ride." 

Her ascent up the stairs was cautious. She tried not to make any noise, and grimaced when she saw the abandoned take out in front of her door. Someone must have let them in. She thought. After opening the door and swiftly locking it, she rushed into her bedroom, opting for something more comfortable; and vowing not to leave her apartment unless it was on fire. Soon after the phone was in her hands. She dialed. 

"Yeah, can you tell Kerry I'm taking the day off?" She paused. "Ok, thanks." Abby crawled into her bed and made sure not to touch her face. Even by accident.

**

The next few weeks were interesting. The swelling had gone down considerably; but the bruises invited a hoard of unwanted questions that Abby tried to answer as politely as possible. It was getting harder with every upward lilt. She finally just started answering before they’d been asked.

“I’m in a biker gang on my off time.” It had gotten to that point unfortunately, which lead Weaver to pull her aside. “I’m sorry.” They stood at the admit desk in a short, awkward silence. 

“Is everything alright?” Kerry tilted her head, purposefully condescending.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Abby was pissed. She’d have felt much better if her face hadn’t been subjected to an interrogation each time she was introduced to someone new. It was getting tiring. 

“If you need anything—“ 

“Could you just make sure all of my patients are comatose for the next week?” Abby was only half joking. They both shared a forced chuckle and went about their business. Abby started looking over some charts, avoiding checking up on a particularly handsy gentlemen who’d come in with a minor asthma attack. 

“Your face looks better.” Susan came up to the desk, Abby had had enough of everyone’s shenanigans; so despite Susan’s innocent comment, she seethed. 

“Thanks.” 

“Sorry I asked. We have a GSW to the head coming in five.” Soon after realizing that Susan’s comment was relatively harmless, Abby felt bad. She apologized in the easiest, albeit most passive aggressive way she could think of. 

“Is he unconscious?” Abby smirked, (though it still hurt) hoping Susan would get the message. _WHITE FLAG. Ugh. I’m such a bitch sometimes!_ Susan looked at her like she was nuts. 

“Probably…” 

` “Thank God.” She followed Susan to the ambulance bay. 

**  
“Rashida Brown, 16, shot by her boyfriend—“ The EMT was cut off by a very vocal, and very conscious gunshot victim. 

“Get yo’ hands off me! Do I fuckin’ look like I want to be touched?” Abby’s groan was vocal. Susan looked in her direction. “Hey, where my phone at?” 

“Good vitals.” The EMT’s popped the legs down on the stretcher and wheeled her through the doors. 

“Rashida? Hi. My name is Susan.” 

“Bitch, I don’t care WHAT yo name is.” 

“We just want to know what happened. Do you know where you are?” 

“Do I look like a fool?” Upon seeing Abby’s face, Rashida let out an excited scream. “Damn girl, what happened to you? He ain’t worth it, lemme tell you. I only got shot cos my baby daddy say he gon’ stop doin’ crack and you think he did? Hell to the no!” Abby looked at Susan. 

Having had enough, Abby let out an exasperated sigh: “I can’t do this right now.” 

Susan thought for a second, making eye contact with Yosh before opening her mouth. “You know, I think I left my pager in the lounge, can you grab it for me?” She started to inspect Rashida’s head. 

“Ouch! Damn, get your hands off of me!” 

“Rashida, we can’t treat you if you won’t let us look.” Rashida threw her arms up in protest, and Abby left the room post haste. She stopped in the bathroom first; before heading to the lounge to grab Susan’s pager. She inspected her face in the mirror, tapping her cheekbone gently to see if the ripples were still there. They weren’t in the shower, they weren’t the other night when she went out for a beer and a guy tried to pick her up a bit over-eagerly, they weren’t there when her schizophrenic patient from that morning had tried to “infect her with alien face cancer.” So why were they here now? She pressed harder, until the pain was dull enough to be unnoticeable, then proceeded to the lounge. 

Once inside, she realized that Susan was just giving her a break like she’d hoped. After coming to this happy conclusion, Abby poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down for a minute to take a sip. 

“Thank. God.” It was at that point Abby felt profoundly bad for how bitchy she’d been towards Susan the past few weeks. However, the thought was brief as Kerry entered the lounge. 

“I thought you were assisting with the GSW in trauma 1?” 

“Oh..yeah. I was; but um… Susan thought she left her pager in here so I was going to get it for her.” Kerry looked at her, knowing the story was bogus. Abby took a final sip of coffee and left the lounge without another word. She smiled at Kerry disingenuously before letting the door close behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

The bruising had lightened with each passing day, and life was slowly returning to a semblance of normalcy. (Semblance, only because she had been sleeping on Luka’s couch since being at Susan’s.) There was something strange about it though—she had much preferred Susan’s place to his. Her couch felt more lived on and her place was much homier. She and Luka both knew that while he was a great doctor, he was also a teenager. Dishes piled up in his sink, take out boxes filled the trash, he always left the seat up (which Abby hadn’t minded so much); but his nonchalance toward everything else was off putting. She was in no way a neat freak, but being able to confidently make a meal in a clean kitchen was a luxury she’d left unacknowledged until now. She’d also left out the part where cooking a meal without needing to call the fire department was a rarity. (It was the little things… ) Though she and Susan hadn’t really had a proper conversation outside of petty pleasantries in some time, in passing thought, Abby wondered what she’d been up to. She’d never been able to properly thank Susan for taking her in that night—despite her protest. Abby had other new things to worry about now; and without the bruises as a constant reminder, the urgency of expressing her gratitude lessened. Abby was never one for talking about feelings anyway. Feelings were messy. Abby was messy. She’d decided to avoid broaching the subject. 

Susan had in fact, been quite busy keeping secrets. Her tryst with a well-meaning Carter was going nowhere; and they both knew it. Was the sex good? Sure. Nothing to write home about—other than the fact that when he was inside of her she tried to push back the thought of him accidentally shocking himself when he was a med student. She stifled a chuckle, to his embarrassment. 

“Is this ok?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine. No, that felt good. You’re—I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something.” She tried to kiss him to squelch further interrogation. 

“What’s that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Come on. You can tell me.” 

“Really, it was nothing.” 

At that point, they both knew the moment had passed. Carter rolled over beside her, and they both went to sleep disappointed. She spoke with Chloe and Suzie on the phone every once in awhile; Suzie seemed to be doing well in school, and Chloe had stayed clean and sober to everyone’s surprise. It was always nice to get news from them, but life seemed boring on all counts; and Susan couldn’t quite put a finger on why. She had secretly been praying something interesting would happen—something to spice up the banality of her day-to-day existence. When the universe answered, she had wished that she could rescind her wishes and go back to boringness. 

He approached her one-day, blood dripping from his mouth. They both knew what was going on. Mark was one of the rare people she could carry on a conversation without ever opening her mouth. They looked at each other for a moment, and it seemed like things were back like they were. He never wanted to tell her that even though he was deeply in love with Elizabeth, he still dreamed about her in the in betweens. He would find his thoughts drifting her direction between the short emails they’d exchange on a rare free moment. It seemed a cruel kismet that him being sick would bring them together. 

She didn’t want to tell him either, that once she got a taste—she craved the familiarity of him more than anything. Things were going in the direction of infinite silent conversations over the course of forever; but he regretted not opening his mouth sooner, and she regretted opening hers at all. Was Arizona fulfilling? Sure. Was it everything she’d hoped for? Not exactly. It’s not that family life and a sense of domesticity bored her, it just didn’t fill her up the way she’d expected. 

When she stayed at his place that night, she realized why. They just understood each other. By that time, they both knew his chance of surviving was slim. Neither accepted this fact. Instead they relished in each other’s company once again. He stayed curled up in her lap for a few hours. 

“Susan?” He muttered groggily. 

“Yeah?” She tried not to shift underneath him. 

“I’m happy you’re back.” 

She was too, and he felt it. They were going to miss this about each other. She put her hand on his head, like she was apologizing for having left in the first place. It ruined him more than it could have ever affected her; and now he was repaying the favor. Just when she’d made up her mind that this is what she wanted, she knew it was going to be taken away from her. Carter be damned; but it’s not like he didn’t have his interests elsewhere as well. She noticed him eyeing Abby in his every spare moment. Before helping Mark get to bed, Susan thought about Elizabeth; and a flood of guilt rushed over her. Despite what she wanted, it was incredibly unfair to do this to her. Susan’s body filled with a wave of emotion. On the one hand, he had trusted her to take care of him and keep the situation between them until he was ready to tell everyone else; on the other hand, he was still married. No doubt he and Elizabeth loved each other. That was that. She was going to her best to set things as she saw morally correct, and not chase after lofty desires. After all, she’d had the chance and passed it up. The decision was agonizing, but it had been made. She waited while he got undressed, and helped put a patch on his eye before claiming she’d be in Rachel’s room if he needed anything. 

“You can stay here.” He said.

“I think I better,” she gestured out his door, “just yell if you need something.” 

“Ok.” Both discouraged, but knowing it was the right decision, they went to bed without further external protest. 

_I want to, I really do._ She thought. 

_I know._

_I care about you a lot._

_Me too._

_It’s not fair to Elizabeth._

_You’re right, I’m sorry._

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight Susan.” She wouldn’t think of it until much later, but closing his bedroom door was one of the hardest things she'd done in her entire life.


	3. Chapter 3

“We should have sold tickets.” Neither of them had slept particularly well yesterday. Luka’s couch was beginning to put a crick in Abby’s neck, and Susan was going to have to try her best to hold it together given Mark’s situation. When the dominatrix with the broken finger and her luchador clad partner rolled through the doors, it was just what each of them needed.

“What does she have in this thing?” Susan was intrigued. She needed something to take her mind off things. Ever the goody two-shoes, Carter tried to derail her distraction, but she would have none of it. Abby agreed. 

“You guys are so boring!” Susan unzipped the bag cautiously, not knowing what to expect. She was pleasantly surprised with the rainbow array that awaited her. Abby was equally amused. A multitude of dildos, butt plugs, and BDSM attire lined the bag. They immediately started to inspect the more interesting specimens. 

“Woah.” 

“Oh my god.” 

The rest of the guys didn’t seem nearly as impressed. Gallant had been trying his best to ignore the situation; Carter shook his head with disapproval (which Susan rolled her eyes at); and Luka was slightly amused, but remained dormant. Abby and Susan poked their way through the rest of the bag’s contents. 

“No one could actually use that, could they?” Abby was fixated on a gargantuan purple dildo with a weird assortment of attachments that seemed far from normal. 

“How about this?” To everyone’s surprise, an inflatable blow up doll ballooned from the bag. Abby snickered. “Gallant, catch!” 

Susan had finally taken notice of the purple behemoth and inspected it cautiously. She couldn’t imagine something like that feeling at all pleasurable, but was fascinated by its structure. Abby leaned her direction. 

“It’s got an on/off switch.” The ladies continued to decompress over their mutual morbid fascination with the magic black bag. They combed through it making sure they were careful not to really _handle_ anything. Though most of the accoutrements looked like they belonged in a bad pornography film; admittedly, Abby and Susan had each found at least one thing that intrigued them. Abby seemed fixated on what she thought was a vibrator that looked more like a kitchen utensil. Susan had given that particular toy a passing glance, but seemed more interested in a curvy bar shaped appliance. Before they could contemplate things further, Weaver had entered the room and averted their decompression with a fluster. 

“WHAT in the name of God is going on in here?” 

Busted.

**

After Kerry had left the room to lecture Gallant, Carter was the first to open his mouth. Abby was thankful they didn’t have to simmer in their guilt any longer. She didn’t see anything (aside from morally) wrong with the situation, and didn’t care to be harangued on the subject.

“I told you guys we shouldn’t have touched the bag.” Susan had had enough. Mark was dying, she had an intense urge to punch John in the face, and the day wasn’t getting any better. _SHUT UP CARTER. JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT. NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR YOUR ALTRUISTIC BULLSHIT._ Aside from that, her only tangible desire was to go back to bed and pretend the last twenty-four hours had been a dream. Mark wasn’t sick, things were still boring, she was going to go home that night, curl up with a dirty book before bed, and get up the next morning. Lather, rinse, repeat. She did her best to be tactful. 

“You could’ve left, no one was keeping you there.” 

”Carter’s right, we didn’t want to open it, you did.” _Great, I’m being interrogated by the morality police._ Susan side eyed Luka. She didn’t need any of this today. Abby broke Susan’s concentration. She had been staring at Gallant, which made Susan feel worse. 

“I wonder what she’s saying in there?” Abby peered through the window sympathetically. Susan, knowing Kerry’s wrath, couldn’t seem to catch a break. It was the first time she’d truly felt bad about the situation all day. 

“We should have told her Gallant wasn’t involved.” Abby nodded in agreement. 

“You should have told her Luka and I weren’t involved!” 

_SHUT UP CARTER._

“Let me guess,” Susan mused, “you were that kid in elementary school that always told, right?” Though she hadn’t realized it at the time, Susan would later reflect on the tenseness of the conversation and feel bad for trying to emasculate him. He would look back on the exchange pompously because no one makes John Carter’s dick look small; and secretly be grateful the situation defused before Susan could say anything more. After a brief contemplative pause, Abby lead the way to the exam room where Gallant sat, and everyone decided to follow her in. 

“You alright?” She figured everyone in the room was now familiar with the infamous Weaver-burn, and felt bad Gallant had to experience it so soon in his career at County. 

“Yeah,” he quipped, “great.” 

Abby and Susan looked at each other knowingly. It wasn’t that bad for a first lecture. They’d definitely seen worse. He stormed out, Luka and Carter followed. Abby shrugged her shoulders without commitment, leaving Susan in the room last. She rolled her eyes before getting to the rest of her patients. She did her best to go about the rest of the morning without incident, but failed miserably. Her brain was clearly elsewhere; and everyone seemed to notice. When asked, she deflected question after question; ignoring all the admit fodder about Mark and Elizabeth. (Luckily her name hadn’t come up yet, which was surprising given the size of Carter’s mouth.) It was painful to listen to. When she saw Kerry entering the lounge, she figured she might give clearing her conscious a shot and followed. 

“Kerry, can I talk to you? It’s about earlier.” Susan cornered her. 

“I’m heading up to HR right now.” 

“I figure it’s only fair to tell you that I was the instigator. Carter and Kovac were both opposed to me opening the bag.” 

“And Abby?” Susan broke for a second. The metal bar with the weird shape had popped back into her mind. She wondered if Abby had found a favorite as well. 

“It was me.” That was it. That was all she could do. Kerry walked over to her locker and opened it, neglecting to look inside. 

“I appreciate you coming forward, but they’re all adults. I’ve scheduled you all to attend a sexual harassment workshop tomorrow morning.” Susan’s eyes widened. The purple strap-on complete with gangly accoutrements was hanging from a hook in Weaver’s locker. _There is a God…_ Susan tried to mask her amusement and Kerry turned around shortly after. “OH!” 

**

  
That evening was rough. It had started to snow again; Susan had picked up some crappy Chinese food and planned on taking a long bath before falling asleep. Once she had taken a few bites of rice, it was clear she wasn’t at all hungry. In the bathtub, she couldn’t stop thinking about Mark. She remembered what his lips felt like, she thought about their first date-date, how they were planning on going to Hawaii, how he helped her almost conquer her fear of flying. Before she knew it, her legs were under the bath faucet. It didn’t take long for the pleasurable spasms to ripple through her body, though it wasn’t how she’d intended. He’d given her a bona-fide offer not once, but _twice_ , and both times she had turned him down. She thought about it as she was towel drying her hair. Was Arizona even worth it? Had she made the wrong choice? No. Impossible. As she slipped into an oversized t-shirt and boxers, she couldn’t help but think of what could have been. Would they have had kids together? (They would have been cute, with their blonde hair; she’d hoped they would have his compassion.) Would they have stayed at County? (As long as they could have started a mutiny against Weaver.) She certainly wouldn’t have had to worry about Elizabeth, and though the thought wasn’t polite, it excited her. Susan lay in bed with her eyes open staring at the ceiling. Her hair was still damp, and a part of her wished Mark were next to her; If for no other reason than the fact that her shampoo smelled good. Damn good.

Abby in turn, was dealing with her own issues. She missed her apartment; Luka’s place was starting to get on her nerves. He’d invited her into bed more than once, and despite his persistence, she kept turning him down. Sex just, didn’t seem all that appealing. She wanted her own bed more than anything—and was at the point where she’d almost risk another fractured cheekbone to get to it. The idea of independence wasn’t a luxury for her it was a necessity. Exhausting Luka’s generosity wasn’t high on her to do list, and though his place got less appetizing by the hour, she didn’t want to upset him. It was a strange conflict. She knew she’d probably make him mad by leaving, but she was convinced she was also making him mad by staying. She screwed up her face after coming to this conclusion. Everyone had been so nice to her the last few weeks, (aside from nosy patients), so accommodating; but she was ready to get back to business as usual. Abby had managed to take decent care of herself since she was a child, why should things be different now? She felt like a freeloader. After Luka went to bed, she set to thinking about how she could get things back in order. She figured it was best for all parties involved. She couldn’t wait to have her life back, after all, the bruises had healed up, and her face was no longer sore. Luka was probably tired of seeing her, she figured, it was time to move. She put on her boots and walked to the bodega near Luka’s apartment. 

“Do you have a paper?” She asked the clerk, pulling her coat tight around her waist. 

“Today’s hasn’t come in yet.” The clerk must not have been older than sixteen. Abby noticed he had taped his fingers together. 

“I’ll take yesterday’s.” He turned around to fish a paper out from under the counter. “What happened to your hand?” 

“I think I broke my finger skating.” _In this weather? Wow. Commitment._

“Let me see it?” Abby reached out her hand. “I’m a nurse, it’s ok.” 

The clerk reluctantly handed her the paper with his injured fingers. Offering unsolicited advice was extremely out of character for Abby; but she figured she could use some good karma. She looked at his hand. It looked like a sprain, nothing too serious. He also could have hairlined it, but from the way he wriggled his fingers without wincing, she remained confident in her assumption. 

“Do you have any more tape?” 

“Yeah, hold on a sec.” The clerk came out from behind his counter perch, and fumbled around a few of the aisles before coming back with a generic cheapy looking roll of white tape. 

“It looks like it’s just sprained. If you tape it like this--” Abby motioned for him to undo the tape that was already on his hand. “It’ll be sturdier.” She looked at the newspaper. “How much do I owe you?” 

“We’re gonna recycle them anyway.” 

“Thanks.” Abby grabbed the paper and gave the kid a wry smile before leaving and making the short trek back to Luka’s. Things between them were coming to a quick halt, and she was thankful the lease was about to be up on her apartment so she’d have another valid excuse to move...anywhere. She’d even given some thought to California. Winters in Chicago were brutal. She looked back at the boot tracks she’d left in the snow. It was starting to come down hard again, and she’d imagined they’d be covered up by morning. after scrounging the internet on a whim earlier, she’d decided to stay local. Winter was coming to an end anyhow. She’d just rummaged up the courage to break it off with Luka. She surmised he’d felt the same way-- at least-- sort of. She kept her emotions inside, quietly combing the paper for new apartments. 

Not to mention, Carter was trying to get her attention, and being subtle as a Mack truck. Just the other day, he’d pulled her aside with earnest and was very frank about wanting to be with her, _sans Luka._ She entertained the idea briefly, but she knew things were going to have to wait until she could find somewhere else to live. 

When she got back to Luka’s, she started circling ads in the paper immediately; cup of coffee at her side.


	4. Chapter 4

Susan noticed that the swelling had almost disappeared on Abby’s face. Their short shared conversations had been kurt and professional (as was normal); but Susan felt a strange dejected nonchalance that she’d originally attributed to the attack, yet now felt uncalled for. Little did she know, that was just Abby. 

The following morning, their facilitator had been extremely late. To be fair, snow had shut down part of the city; but Susan was still wondering how all of them had managed to get there on time given they were spread out around town themselves. She chuckled at the reason they’d been cooped up dealing with Mr. Tardy in the first place, though she figured it was worth it because seeing Kerry’s face after discovering the surprise in her locker would be a source of amusement until her dying breath. 

Susan hadn’t counted on a few things that morning: Carter losing his virginity before his balls dropped, for one. She was enjoying their date-lationship. It was simple, fun, and no-frills. They’d always been flirty, as far as she could tell, and it was nice for them to get those feelings out of their systems in an acceptable way. Though the thought weighed on her through the day and she could tell his affections were elsewhere. After thinking about it, she figured there weren’t many problems that couldn’t be solved with a few double “A” batteries-- if it came to that. 

The second thing she hadn’t counted on was watching a sword fight. She and Abby chuckled. Obviously the two men were trying to appear more impressive than the other. She and Abby kept making eyes at each other because both doctors looked like morons, despite their intentions. Susan tended to Carter’s face lac like the good, no-frills, date-lationship girlfriend she was; but she noticed his gaze was fixated on Abby the entire time. 

_C’est la vie..._ She thought, _Here’s to another night alone with the Rabbit._

The last thing took her by surprise most. Between Carter and Luka’s dueling for affection, she struck up casual conversation with Abby, and found they had quite a bit in common. They watched the same trashy T.V. shows, laughed at (mostly) the same jokes, and appeared to get along fine. She noticed Abby was a far cry from the woman who’d slept on her couch. 

When their facilitator finally arrived, the class carried on as if they were a bunch of elementary school students in their first sex-ed class. Every time Carter made a snide remark, he would not so subtly glance in Abby’s direction to see if it amused her. At one point she gave him a sarcastic thumbs up, which calmed him down a bit. Susan chuckled. 

“Something funny?” The needlessly uptight facilitator glared at her. He had seen many people not take the class seriously, but this group was definitely the least enthused. “Why don’t you come down for a demonstration?” 

“Why not.” Susan squeaked out of her chair and stood in front of the class. 

“Someone else. You.” He pointed at Abby. “What’s your name again?” 

“Abby.” 

“Why don’t you come down here and join your partner?” The men sat and watched semi-attentively. The two women made eye contact and shared a silent chortle. 

“Ok, so you--” 

She cut him off: “Susan.” 

“ _Susan_.” He punctuated. “Pretend you’re at work. Now Abby, I want you to come in and make an unwanted advance. Ok, go.” 

“Like what?” Abby inquired. 

“I dunno, be creative.” The facilitator sat on the desk. It was clear everyone’s patience was waning. 

“Creative? Ok.” 

“Yeah, come on Abby; I have pretty thick skin so it’s going to take a lot.” 

Then without pause, Abby smiled and exclaimed snarkily:   
“Hey Lewis, nice tits.” 

Susan collapsed in a fit of laughter, and the facilitator was not amused. He looked into the crowd. Aside from Gallant, who’d been essentially silent the entire class, he saw little dispute from Carter or Luka. Susan _did_ have nice tits. 

“I’m sorry, can I have a guy come do this instead?” Susan pat Abby on the shoulder, signalling her to return to her seat. 

“Fine.” Said the Facilitator, “John?” Carter got up without argument and stood next to her. Abby sat down, smiling. 

“Same thing?” He asked. 

“Same thing.” The Facilitator seemed least eager of everyone to see how this time was going to play out. Carter walked up to Susan and looked her in the eye. 

“Hey Lewis,” before he could finish, Susan elbowed him in the stomach. 

“You perv.” She shook her head. 

“I was going to say you had a nice smile!” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” She looked over at Abby, who kept laughing. Carter grimaced. “You big baby!” She then looked at him. 

“What- that hurt!”

“You mean to tell me that you were in a sword fight earlier and you’d cry home to your mother about _this_?” Susan couldn’t hold in her chuckling. 

“It was more like a duel.” 

“Which you lost.” Luka interrupted. The teacher looked like he was about to give up. 

“The closet was open.” Carter shrugged. He looked at the teacher, who was far from amused. “Hey, remember we were all here on time.” 

“Need I remind you why you’re here in the first place Dr. Carter? Anyway, thank you Dr. Lewis.” Susan sat down and rolled her eyes at Carter, who had admittedly not even kept up with what was going on in the first place.

The class had ended later than scheduled. Susan was bummed she still hadn’t figured out who put the dildo in Kerry’s locker, but she wanted to catch Abby before they left. 

“Abby! Hey, we should get a drink sometime.” 

“Yeah.” Abby obliged. Susan was kind of surprised how the day’s events had brought out a different side of her colleague. Then again, no one needed a cracked chest or an intubation tray at present, so positivity seemed plausible given the circumstance. A few seconds later, Susan got to thinking: did she really have nice tits? 

“Susan!” John broke her focus. “You ready?” 

“What? Yeah, after you.” They walked into the hallway. “Your ribs still sore?” 

“A little.” 

Luka passed them laughing: “He’s just a bad loser.” 

“I want a rematch!” Carter shouted. Luka was still laughing, but had gone too far down the hall to reply. 

“You really made a fool out of yourself today.” 

“What?” 

“Come on, I don’t think anything’s going on between them.” 

“Who?”

“Abby and Luka! I know you’re not that dense.” 

“How did I make a fool of myself?” 

Susan pointed at the cut on his face. “I’m pretty sure sword fighting isn’t something you do on a daily basis.” She paused for a second. “Kiss me.” 

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” They had reached the front of the building and were now standing on the stoop. 

“Just kiss me.” It’s not that she was afraid of what was about to happen, she just wanted to be sure. The day had been weird enough. She just figured it’d be best if things were cleaned up in one fell swoop as opposed to them hanging on to something comfortable; yet something neither of them really had desire to pay attention to. Their lips met, and Susan was-- less than surprised. He tasted nice. That’s it. Just nice. She could tell he was imagining what Abby smelled like after a long session of lovemaking. Lately his thoughts had been elsewhere, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him he was really bad at keeping things under wraps. 

‘Was it there for you?” Susan could tell his hands were wrapped around Abby’s hair, and he was whispering her name into every empty place in his brain. He was powerless to hide the fact that every spare space in his life was filled with Abby. Abbyabbyabby. “It wasn’t there for me either.” 

“This isn’t because Mark Greene suddenly became available, is it?” The seconds between his quip and her retort drug out for an eternity. All and all, this was going to be like ripping off a bandaid. Painful for a few seconds, but they were both going to be better in the long run because of it. She could see herself as the June to Carter’s Ward; the thought was ridiculous. It was also ridiculous that he was bringing up Mark _again_ , because what did he even know about it anyway? So what if she’d rather have been with Mark than a lot of other people? It was none of his goddamned business! 

“Remember when I said you were making a fool of yourself? Well, you’re doing it again.” Staying cool was impossible. She wanted to run straight to bed and cry into her pillow like a twelve year old. Reality was sobering, and it _fucking sucked._


	5. Chapter 5

_Do you have a minute?_ Mark looked over at Susan during a particularly dense trauma that they both knew was not going to end on a good note. 

“How long?” She glanced at Haleh, who was still squeezing oxygen; then over at Mark. _After we call this guy._

“Thirty five minutes.” Haleh got in one last squeeze before Mark opened his mouth. 

“Time of death, 13:30.” Mark took off his gloves and threw them in the trash, and Susan followed suit. They left the trauma room together after disposing of the rest of their bloody garments. 

“I will never understand people who ride any sort of...moving apparatus without a helmet.” Susan groaned with frustration. “They’re a bunch of fucking idiots.”

Right as the words escaped her mouth, she wanted to put them back in and swallow. The man’s girlfriend was completely in earshot; and Susan felt like a moron. 

“He was going to work.” The woman approached the two of them. She looked shockingly...normal. Susan was taken off guard, and felt even worse. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her gut fell to her knees. It was like every dumb thing she’d ever said had come flowing out of her mouth at once. 

“I was going to bring it to him so he’d be safe on the ride home.” 

Mark looked at her: _Magoo’s?_

Susan nodded, and continued to address the person she’d just totally, completely, and unabashedly offended. 

“Your boyfriend--” She started. 

“Husband.” The woman interrupted. Susan was two for two. The day was off to a great start. 

_I am such an idiot._ She could hear Mark as he walked away. 

_No you’re not..._

**

“You want anything?” He had already staked out one of the good booths. Susan was relieved. She needed the five minute break more than most days, and today she just happened to be lucky enough to get a moment with him by herself.

“Coffee.” She sat across from him. “And probably a fifth of whisky.” 

They both chuckled, mostly out of stress.

“I never saw you as a whisky girl.” He smiled. 

“Haven’t known me long enough, I guess.” She screwed up her face. “You’re right. I’m more of a fruit and vodka person. Do you hate me?” 

“Never.” 

“Good. Everyone else seems to.” She put her head in her hands. “When are you off?” 

“Now.” 

“Ugh, I’m jealous. I still have three hours.” 

“I quit today.” 

Suddenly coffee didn’t sound all that appetizing anymore. Nothing could placate the feeling in her stomach that had arisen with his sentence. She resisted the urge to regurgitate every word as it came to her brain. None of her thoughts would have made sense anyway. These were the thoughts to process: _This is my friend. He is dying. He is my friend. He is going to die._ She didn’t know what she wanted to shout anyway. She wanted to make eye contact with God and ask for a do-over, and He must’ve been listening. The next thing she knew, she was sitting next to Mark in the booth with her head resting in the crook of his neck fusing them together. She realized that was what she wanted to say: _Your skin feels good on my skin._ He put his hand in her hair: _I know._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm really bad at writing on a schedule. I have this entire fic outlined, I just haven't gotten around to writing all of it yet. Here's the next installment, which goes up through 8x19. I know it's not too ship centered right now, but that's about to change ;)

Swearing off men was not something Abby had taken into serious consideration until earlier that morning. It’s not like the single life wasn’t for her; but it wasn’t like she could control anyone’s urge to sword fight for her honor, either. She entertained another one of Carter’s diatribes about living the twelve step program, harkening back to her days as an apathetic high school student who had a real knack for fooling people into thinking she cared. Again, it’s not like she didn’t have concern for what Carter had to say; it’s just that this was the sixth time this week she was having to sit through another well meaning speech about how to live her life. The words drifted in one ear and out the other. She sipped a mug of stale coffee in the lounge while Carter continued monologuing. 

“I think it’s really beneficial.” He said, too chipper for her taste. 

“Mm-hm.” Abby looked at him. “I’m gonna go have a smoke while it’s quiet.” _If that’s OK with you..._ She excused herself; and made zero attempt at figuring out what was going through Carter’s mind as she walked out of the lounge. 

She liked Luka; but he could be extremely juvenile. In between puffs of her cigarette-- she dreamed about crawling into bed. _Her_ bed. Not anyone else’s bed, or couch, or even _pull-out_ ; just her bed. Her comforter sounded like perfection. She imagined pulling it up over her head instead of getting up and facing life like a big girl. She would deflate it with her arms, and bring the end up under her chin. She remembered how the ceiling grooved together, and the weird crack it had because of a one-time rainstorm leak. 

Then something strange happened. The ripple of pain returned to her nose. She was staring at her bludgeoned face in the mirror. She tapped her face lightly before putting out her cigarette; and an ambulance took her mind thankfully off things by pulling up. She tossed the cigarette into the trash; but not before the EMT had opened his mouth. 

“Really?” She was taken off guard. “That shit’ll kill you.”  
Abby gave him the most disingenuous smile she could muster. As far as she was concerned, this week could go die in a hole.

**

_“Aunt Susan?”_

_Fuck._

_“...Aunt Susan?!”_

**

She was on a plane. Two wrapped Xanax in her pocket. The package crinkled and the edge chafed the side of her leg. She couldn’t bring herself to open it. She watched as an obnoxious looking man in a fanny-pack walked down the aisle. He had a camera around his neck, dangling awkwardly over his gaudy, striped polo. Susan closed her eyes and prayed; but God hadn’t been too kind to her lately, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“15B-- looks like we’re seat neighbors!” 

_Oh Jesus._

“You ever been to New York before?” The man sat down next to her, and Susan realized that even though she didn’t have the most petite frame, there was no way to keep the man’s thighs off of her lap. She tried to smile in his direction; hoping he would get the message that his ass was toast if his mouth stayed open and words kept coming out. 

“Name’s Bill.” He extended a hand, which Susan examined; immediately deciding not to shake. Bill was not going to budge, and his persistence was off-putting. Susan obliged the handshake unhappily. 

“Susan.” 

“Are you excited to go to the big apple?” Bill smiled. “The big apple. Wonder why they call it that. I’ve never been, myself.”

That was enough. Susan couldn’t handle it. 

“Excuse me, what was your name again?” She seethed. 

“Bill-” 

“Right, Bill. Listen, there aren’t enough narcotics available in modern science that could make this flight tolerable. So if you don’t mind...” She made a quick gesture to the window, indicating that she was going to try and nap; but first she uncrinkled the Xanax. Popping them into her mouth, she mustered all the saliva she could for a quick dry swallow. Bill seemed a little put off by the situation, but Susan didn’t care. 

Later she realized that even though the day had been awful; it was the first time in awhile she hadn’t been focused on Mark. Who was in Hawaii. Where they were going to go once. Together. _FUCK._

“Would you like anything to drink ma’am?” 

Bill was asleep next to her; and though she’d tried desperately to nap, nothing happened. She just sat with her forehead pressed against the open window, trying to relax. Susan debated whether or not she should have taken Ativan instead; but the thought was futile.  


“Sure, um-- coffee I guess. And, uh, do you guys have some peanuts or anything?” 

Bill let out a giant snort, and Susan looked on with disgust. 

“Certainly.” 

“Also, um,” she started fidgeting with her hands; nothing could hide her anxiety. “Do you know when we’ll be landing?” 

“Approximately ninety minutes.” 

“Thanks.” 

Bill’s head tipped over the shoulder that was closest to Susan; and she let out a frustrated sigh before recrossing her legs. _Flying. Is. The worst._

**

_“Hello, Abby?”_

“Yes, this is Abby.” She stood at admit while Frank inspected her every move. She was hoping a quick, slicy side-eye would get him to buzz off. It was only mildly successful. 

_“I just wanted to let you know that Brian’s notice expired yesterday.”_

“That’s great.” 

_“The apartment’s been vacated.”_ Abby’s relief was visible. Frank was still oggling; but at this point she couldn’t have cared less. All of the daydreaming she’d done about her comforter must have paid off. 

“So when can I come back?” 

_“Whenever you want.”_

“Thank you.” She hung up. Her feelings were palpable. _Thank God._

“Good news?” Frank inquired. 

“Don’t you have any work to do, Frank?” Abby was sick of his being nosy. She was excited to go back to doing things alone again. She could sit on the couch alone, read alone, bathe alone, cook alone, listen to music alone, _sleep alone._ Luka put his hand on her shoulder while she was lost in thought. It shouldn’t have startled her, but it did. 

“Everything ok?” She politely removed his hand from her shoulder. 

“That, was my building manager.” Luka looked at her, waiting for the rest of the story. “Brian’s moved out.” 

“That’s good!” She could tell that Luka was going to be upset after she left. While she thrived on time alone, she knew he preferred company. She also knew that if she had to look at his sink full of dirty dishes another day, things would not end well.

**

After getting into the cab with her small duffel, Susan realized that New York just seemed like an endless slew of corridors. Instead of a maze that would surely come to and end at some point, each corner they turned opened into a new world. Though partially homogeneous, every alleyway had its own separate sea of confusing circumstance. Susan’s sensibility was still slightly placated by the Xanax, but she kept picturing Suzie running through the streets beside their cab. All of the half scenes in her periphery contained some piece of Suzie. A man on the street was selling her jewelry, she was rushing down the subway stairs to catch a train, eating Halal in the entry of the Met. Her stomach dropped when they reached the police station. Her eyes had finally been able to focus, and her brain had finally been able to grasp that Suzie was in none of these places.

She checked in each crevice of the precinct, hoping Suzie would run out from behind a closet and wake her up from this dream she was surely having. As the medication finally wore off, the pangs in her chest grew, and she felt that each racing beat of her heart was loud enough to wake the dead. It occurred to her then, that she’d only had a cup of coffee in the last six hours; and the symphony of worry her body was playing likely didn’t interest anyone else in the station. She massaged the muscles between her thumb and forefinger, trying to decide who to approach first. She knew how to deal with these sorts of people; the non-friendly kinds, anyway-- but today, mustering any kind of logical skill was going to be near impossible. Still, Susan pressed on. 

“I’m off!” She heard a bulky cop say to his superior. His nonchalance irritated her, but she didn’t want to be a bother. The last few hours had been a blur, but she knew something was amiss; and wasn’t going to stop until she had answers. 

The rest of the afternoon blended together too: 

_“Are you sure--”_

_“When was the last time you spoke with--”_

_“She’s an addict--”_

_“Her stepfather--”_

While riding around with the two detectives, Susan’s earlier assertion that the blinding entrails of Manhattan were beyond comprehensible kept growing stronger in her stomach. At this point, her hope was completely with the detectives. She was running on blind adrenaline; and though she wanted to just get everything in order herself, nothing she did was going to be of any help at this point. The detectives had been trying to convince her to remain hopeful, but Susan wasn’t an idiot. She knew the likelihood of things ending up ok was slim to none. Her last sliver of hope was for Suzie. None for Chloe, whom she wanted desperately to punch in the face.

She thought about the day she tore apart her home looking for a small stuffed bear. Susan had known Suzie’s every nuanced whimper. She’d memorized her schedules, and tried to keep with them as closely as possible. She trivialized her importance when they were all in Phoenix, but Susan knew in the back of her mind that Chicago would have been a better choice for everyone. Now, she was regretting that she didn’t fight harder. She could have scheduled her shifts differently to help Suzie with her homework at night. They could have sat on her floor playing Barbies together. Maybe Mark could have come to live with them. 

_FUCK._

Nothing was going well. 

“You seen this little girl?” The female detective accosted some kids in an area that was referred to as ‘urinetown’. Susan thought she had smelled it all, but Urinetown was truly more horrendous than anything she could have ever imagined. She prayed neither Suzie or Chloe were in a back alley rotting away in this decrepit skeleton of a neighborhood. When she saw the children the detective was talking to, her heart ached for them. She was exhausted, but that didn’t keep her from wanting to make sure all the children in this horrific place were safe and cared for. 

The children joined them for a meal. 

Though she was starving, Susan couldn’t bring herself to eat. She let the detectives question them about Suzie and Chloe; the kids knew Suzie. Susan’s stomach was folding itself into a blanket. They shuffled back into the squad car, and around the barreling bowels of the city yet again. She still had no idea where they were. A call came in to the female detective, and it was just as Susan feared. 

“They want you to make an I.D.” 

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, Susan couldn’t be sure which direction was up anymore. She felt like she was stumbling through hallway after hallway; only able to keep up with the detectives because she remembered their uniforms were blue. _Yokas. That’s her name, Yokas._ They stood together by a large window, in a big basement, in a large hospital. This offered a small, strange bit of comfort to Susan; because at least she knew where she was now. She knew how to navigate a hospital. Finally something she could control. 

“Are you ready?” Yokas asked. Susan waited, trying the best to straighten her vision. She wanted to make peace with the fact that she tried to do the best she possibly could for Suzie; but the fact that she could very well be on a cold slab mere feet away made Susan feel like she’d failed. She hadn’t done enough. She could never do enough. 

“Yeah.” Yokas gave the window a slight tap, and the curtain was pulled back. The girl’s eyes were not Suzie’s eyes. The girl’s hair was not Suzie’s hair. The girl’s ears were not Suzie’s ears. _“It’s not her.”_


End file.
